A Grimm Star Wars
by Cyclic Platinum
Summary: The Galaxy is on the brink of Civil War, the Jedi Oder is a distant memory, and a forgotten evil is returning to throw civilization into chaos, but a lone Jedi Padawan will break with convention to keep the Rebel Alliance alive. She will ally herself with aimless rogues and ruthless Sith in a bold move that will determine the very soul of the Rebellion and all it leaves behind.
1. Prey No More

**Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY or Star Wars.**

 **A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away . . .**

 **The specter of Civil War looms large as the Imperial Navy of the Galactic Empire scours the Outer Rim in search of the Fledgling Rebel Alliance. Scattered and disorganized, the Rebellion is barely holding together. Its leaders are divided in their vision for the future, looking for a symbol to rally behind.**

 **Unbeknownst to both armies, an even darker force is gathering strength at the fringes of the Galaxy. An ancient enemy of sentient life is awakening from its slumber, roused by the growing sense of fear and hatred. It seeks to manipulate the coming conflict, plunge Inter-Galactic civilization into the next Dark Age, and reclaim its lost supremacy over the Force itself.**

 **Meanwhile, on the desolate world of Tatooine, a bounty hunter is on a search of his own. Unwittingly, he has already taken the first step in setting their apocalyptic plan in motion . . .**

A figure swathed in a crimson cloak strode through oceans of sand beneath the harsh twin suns burning the surface of Tatooine. As the wind blew, the red cloth flapped in the air to reveal that the young faunus was clad in an amber-colored, head-to-toe suit of Mandalorian armor, the standard armor of another species struggling to survive the Galactic Empire. He walked in weary silence, and cradled an Imperial Long-rifle in his arms, relieved that his hunt was finally approaching its conclusion. His helmet's sensors gave him a panoramic view from almost every angle, and the faunus could see a black plume of smoke drifted over the next dune, his destination.

Javik took note of how quickly the dark wisps dissipated and knew he needed to hurry if he wanted to avoid being caught with his civvies down in a sandstorm. He'd be blind if a big one blew in, and the freelance bounty had heard some disturbing stories back at the spaceport about Jawa scavengers being eaten alive by giant worms a few years back. It all sounded pretty outlandish to him, but he was still marginally spooked.

Brushing away a spattering of sand that had been dirtying the cross-section of his T-shaped visor for some time and tugging on the hood of his cloak, Javik picked up his pace, loping purposefully up the ridge with long strides. He settled into a crouch on his haunches at the cusp, surveying the shuttle's crash site through his weapon's scope.

The shuttle had struck the ground at a sharp enough angle to bury its nose into the shifty sands. On top of that, the ion drives were still burning. Well, smoldering seemed a more accurate description. There probably wasn't much left to burn aside from some exposed circuitry and a few duraplast plates. Miraculously, the craft had managed not to collide with any of the now scorched boulders scattered around its frame. To Javik, it almost looked like the shuttle had more landed than crashed, albeit rather roughly and abruptly. Javik could only guess as to why the boarding ramp was bulging outwards like a Wookie had tackled it. Whatever the reason, that entry was a no-go. A flicker of movement drew his attention to the open damaged docking hatch, or rather, the jagged space aft of the cockpit.

"Kark! You're hard to kill." Javik breathed, feeling a strange amount of respect for his quarry. It wasn't very often that anyone managed to escape one of his ambushes, much less elude capture for several standard days with him on their tail. He never had fit the whole 'blood and guts' stereotype all that well – too sentimental apparently - but he was nothing if not efficient. Javik had assassinated Moffs, ransomed Hutt crime lords a time or three, and he'd even assisted a few Imperial strike teams in killing rogue Jedi as an "auxiliary unit working in the interests, and for the greater good, of the Empire", but he couldn't remember ever working this hard for his credits. Well . . . whatever the circumstances, his quarry's uncanny luck had run out.

Sliding down the other side of the sand dune, Javik rolled the last few feet to take cover behind a smooth, freshly-blackened boulder a short dash away from the crashed ship. Anticipating tight quarters inside the shuttle, Javik locked his Long-rifle onto his back, drawing a pair of sleek, DL-44 heavy blaster pistols from the forearm compartments inside his armored gauntlets.

They were easy to hide and fairly effective at punching through both shielded and unshielded infantry, but they also had smaller energy cells then he'd like, a deficiency Javik kept in mind. As of recent decrees by old Palps' himself, the 44s were also _highly_ illegal, his even more so after allowing a boisterous Mando to take a few liberties with the design. Shortened barrels and two forcibly removed sights meant his sidearms were now modified for quick draws, an invaluable skill in his line of work.

Javik aimed both blasters over the boulder towards the wreckage, but if his target was still inside, she wasn't coming out. "Making me do all the work, typical woman." Javik grumbled in frustration, vaulting over his cover and dashing towards the entrance, his cloak whipping behind him as he ran. He half expected to be shot immediately and end up tumbling to the ground with a burning hole in his flank, but he was able to slide against the opening without incident.

The docking hatch had been blown inward in mid-flight courtesy of a little souvenir Javik had planted onboard the craft as a last resort. Once the runaway shuttle had reached the upper stratosphere . . . Kaboom.

 _Score one for detpacks_ Javik thought humorlessly. Utilizing explosives had almost felt like cheating, but he couldn't afford to botch this contract. Not only had Javik already received half his payment, but a pair of Inquisitors had arrived onboard an _Imperator_ -Class Star Destroyer to deliver it. No one, not even Javik, was exactly eager to disappoint the Emperor's deadliest assassins, not if they enjoyed the humble pastime of living.

Technically, the Imperator model had been renamed the _Imperial_ class some time ago, but Javik wasn't interested in splitting hairs. Turbolasers were turbolasers were turbolasers. Presumably, the two Inquisitors were both still orbiting Tatooine with their fingers on the FIRE button, awaiting his return with a stack of sparkling aurodium ingots or their lightsabers depending on how successful he was.

Javik inched his way inside the crippled shuttle slowly, momentarily forgetting about his employers as he marveled at how little damage had actually been done to the vessel's tiny infrastructure despite the nose smashing into the sands at speeds exceeding terminal velocity.

"My compliments to the pilot." He whistled, stepping gingerly past a loose power coupling dangling in his way, the movement he'd seen from the hill.

To his immediate left, there was a sparking control panel still trying futilely to alert the pilot to a drastic loss of cabin pressure. The pilot herself was noticeably absent from the open cockpit, so Javik turned his T-shaped visor right to stare down the corridor of the shuttle towards the boarding ramp, purely for appearance's sake. Red fabric twisting with the movement, he shifted his whole body to try and hide the fact that he'd been able to see her all along. There, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the hallway barely ten feet away, was his quarry.

Javik got his first good look at the girl and felt a brief pang of guilt at the sight of her injuries. Her scalp was still bleeding, staining her dirty brown hair with crimson streaks. There was a severe blaster burn in her left calf, and several more shallower burns scattered across her slim torso. On the same side, there was a bacta patch bandaged against her arm in an effort to stimulate healing in some unseen wound below her shoulder. It was almost enough for Javik to ignore the filthy, tattered remnants of her orange flight suit, a clear sign that this teenage girl was actually a Rebel pilot. Personally, he had nothing against the Rebel dissidents, he even sympathized with them to a degree, but his employers were not the kind of people you crossed.

His sentimental side wondered why the Inquisitors wanted her dead, but the other, much wiser, parts wondered why he wondered at all, and it chastised him for bringing his conscience into the mix. It was hard enough killing corrupt Imperial Moffs, but now was murdering younglings too? As if he didn't have enough nightmares to deal with.

The young woman reeked with the sour odor of sweat mixing with various fuelants staining her clothing, yet she still breathed deeply, seemingly lost in a meditative trance or something. Javik aimed his blasters at her, but he stopped short of firing when her eyes snapped open, fixing him in place with those silvery orbs as the hairs on his neck began prickling dangerously at her smile.

"Sooooo . . . are you going to kill me?" She asked brightly, sounding completely at odds with her disheveled appearance. Her voice rang clear as glass through his helmet's audio speakers, about as fragile too. Although, Javik doubted the cause was anything other than pain from her wounds, or possibly her young age. After spending the last several days dodging improvised traps and chasing a woman that, by all accounts, he should have killed many times over, Javik was seriously questioning her humanity. There were a few alien species in the galaxy that could imitate the appearance of other species, Clawdites came to mind, but even that still didn't explain how she'd ran two miles with a karking hole in her leg to reach this doomed shuttle. At this point, he was actually feeling more curious than confrontational.

"Sorry, if I've failed to make my intentions clear, sweetheart." He retorted sarcastically. Javik couldn't find it in himself to smirk at her question, but his annoyance spiked once he realized that he wasn't actually sure what he planned to do anymore himself. He tightened his grip on his blasters, shaking his head to force any thoughts of self-condemnation away.

"I asked what you were going to do, not what you came here to do." The adolescent felon giggled weakly. She stood up on shaking legs and continued waiting expectantly for his answer as she leaned heavily against the shuttle's wall, still grinning like a fool.

Javik bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood in an effort to keep from lashing out in growing frustration. Who had the Empire sent him to kill? Nothing about this encounter was typical. Forget about the absurd difficulty he'd overcome just cornering her, Javik was oddly concerned about the route of questioning she was pursuing. The woman wasn't asking for an explanation or begging for her life. She didn't even sound certain that he was going to kill her, but why wouldn't he? What did she know?

"Don't do this." The girl squeaked, showing the first real emotion in her plea when her voice finally cracked. "I don't want to hurt you." She continued, sparking a defiant fire in his gut to match the one flaring within her eyes. Javik couldn't keep a sharp laugh from escaping his lips, blood boiling in an instinctual outrage at what he took for a challenge.

"Really? You think you're going to kill me? Who do you think you are?" He asked incredulously, unnerved by how calmly she responded.

"My name is Ruby Rose," The girl pushed herself off the wall as she spoke, suddenly sounding lethally serious. Javik took a step back even though the girl swayed unsteadily for a moment, a voice in the back of his head screaming danger. "-and I never said anything about killing you." Ruby added before thrusting her palm out towards him.

Javik tucked his chin down in preparation for a thermal detonator, but he saw no metallic orb packed with explosives before an invisible force knocked him off his feet. He flew backwards at unimaginable speed, slamming heavily into a cockpit bulkhead. He felt something break inside his torso, but Ruby wasn't finished with him yet. Another jerk of her hand sent Javik hurtling down into the sparking computer console before letting his body slide to the floor.

"Who . . . the kriff . . . are you?" Javik managed to gasp out despite the painful spasms blossoming behind his ribcage. A metallic copper taste filled his mouth as he looked up to watch the girl pull a ridged cylinder off a loop on her belt.

 _How did I miss that_? Javik wondered, recognizing the device for what it was. He'd seen more than one fall to the ground under a hail of blaster bolts. He couldn't win this fight, not alone. Furious, frustrated tears filled his eyes as the cylinder gave birth to a brilliant blue blade, bathing Ruby's exhausted, battle-worn features in an offbeat azure glow. Somehow, she managed to look childish and warlike all at once.

"There you go asking the wrong question again." Ruby smiled, almost convincing Javik that the concern he saw in her eyes was real. "-but I'll tell you what you need to hear anyways." She continued giddily, flashing him a smug grin as she walked towards him. "As I said, my name is Ruby Rose, and I am a Jedi."

 **Author's Note: I was inspired by Dappere's story,** **Star Wars RWBY: Beacon of Hope, and subsequently Dane-of-Celestia's artwork. As such, I feel that it is only right to make that explicitly clear so you can check out their awesome works as well. If, by any chance, either of you read this, I dedicate this first chapter to you.**


	2. Two Paths

**Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY or Star Wars.**

"He's been out of contact for too long." A feminine voice purred within the darkness of the star destroyer's command deck. The voice emanated from a tall, feminine figure bathed in shadows and a voluminous black robe that stood beside the captain's chair. She spoke carefully, knowing the importance of keeping any semblance of worry out of her words, lest her Master chastise her lack of discipline. They were both alone on the bridge, as per the lead Inquisitor's commands, not that she'd ever known him to accept criticism well because of witnesses.

"Are we certain this Javik was up to the task?" She was careful to phrase her words in a way that avoided placing blame solely on her Master's broad shoulders, brushing a stray strand of her long onyx tresses away from her yellowed eyes as she spoke.

Blake Belladonna fought to keep herself from trembling when Darth Taurus turned his gaze to her, focusing his imposing presence within the Force like the tip of his lightsaber and searing a pathway into her skull. She clenched her jaw shut to stop from crying out as his probe burned through her thoughts, her memories, and . . . her feelings. He didn't care about her discomfort, and thanks to his callousness, he was able to tear truths from her mind that she hadn't realized she harbored. After several more agonizing moments, he withdraw, leaving Blake feeling painfully cold and empty. She shuddered as his presence receded. It felt like he'd set her soul on fire and only scattered ashes remained.

"You doubt my judgement, Apprentice." Adam declared from behind the slits in his glowing ivory eye mask, returning his bright red gaze to the Hutt world of Tatooine framed in the Star Destroyer's viewport. It appeared as it truly was, a tiny, insignificant dirtball in some backwater sector of the galaxy, and yet; here they were, one of the Emperor's most proficient assassins and his protégé.

Blake stood silently, knowing any protests on her part would only result in a swift flogging. She resisted the urge to scratch at her back, reminding herself that many of the partially healed scars crisscrossing her flesh were too fresh to have nerve endings.

"Tell me why?" Darth Taurus ordered ominously. His deep voice, weighted with his affinity for the Dark Side, sent a fiery chill down her spine, almost setting her skin ablaze.

"I merely wonder if you overestimated the bounty hunter." Blake began hesitantly, trying without success to glean any hint of her Master's disposition past the heavy veil his presence cast across her own senses. "His resume may be impressive, but we have sent him to hunt down a former Jedi Master. Alone." Blake stated, unable to keep a bit of disbelief from creeping into her voice. "He is just a man, however skilled." She made certain to acquiesce, bowing obsequiously as Darth Taurus rose from his seat. Blake had a fleeting view of small horns protruded past Adam's curly, blood-red hair before his clenched fists captured more and more of her attention with each short step he took towards her. A bead of sweat started forming on Blake's forehead as her Master bent over to whisper into the silky feline ears sprouting from her scalp.

"That is where you are wrong, my young Apprentice." He murmured with unbridled contempt dripping off his tongue, punctuating his words by grinding her Faunus appendages between his fingers.

Blake couldn't help but whimper at Adam's cruel ministrations, earning herself a sharp slap on the cheek for her insolence. Without another word, he settled back into his seat, motioning for her to come closer. She didn't hesitate to comply, regaining her composure against the sting prickling across her skin before she'd even turned around. She took a knee at his feet, bowing her head in supplication as she awaited his directives.

"What is your bidding, my Master?" Blake asked, her voice strong and steady, eager to please Darth Taurus.

"I've decided that if you are so concerned with this bounty hunter's ability," Adam squelched her unspoken dissent with a wave of his hand. "-I'll allow you to ensure his success. You are to follow Javik." He stated, continuing on without preamble. "I want you to observe him in action, and if he should fail . . ." Adam let the statement hang.

"I understand." Blake nodded slowly, unsure of just when her Master had truly decided on this course of action. Here recently, every task he set before her felt planned, painstakingly choreographed even though there was no possible-

"Nothing is impossible when you embrace the full power of the Dark Side, my Apprentice." Adam spat hatefully, jolting Blake out of her head and reminding her that even her innermost suspicions were never her's alone. "Now, get out of my sight." He commanded, reaching out with the Force to squeeze her throat shut just tightly enough to reinstall at least a semblance of discipline in Blake.

It crossed his mind that he'd allowed his attachment to the girl to cloud his judgment as of late. He'd shown far too much leniency after some of her more brazen rebellions. Then again, he actually savored seeing that defiant fire flare up in her eyes. Adam enjoyed watching it die even more, knowing it was only a matter of time before Blake was burning again.

The young Inquisitor jumped fearfully to her feet, ignorant to his thoughts, and strode swiftly off the command deck and into a sterile, oppressively well-lit corridor. Lost in her own dark thoughts, walking briskly, she passed by conference rooms and crewmembers with equal indifference. At least the former didn't throw suspicious glares her way. The crew of the _Winter's_ _Howl_ barely bothered to hide their mistrust from her anymore, mainly because she couldn't instill real terror in them like Adam managed to with a mere glance.

A scheming aura coming from the officers' barracks peaked Blake's interest, drawing her closer before she realized she'd changed direction. The Inquisitor stopped herself from trying to activate the door controls, realizing there was little point. The red light above the doorway coupled with her own instinct suggested that she wouldn't have any luck requesting that the occupants grant her entry of their own volition. With that in mind, Blake deemed this to be a perfect opportunity to implement one of her Master's lessons.

Blake pressed her hand against the blinking control panel and closed her eyes, dismissing the initial failed verification tone. Concentrating on her presence in the Force, she sought to control the energy surging into her, demanding its submission to her will, her wants. The Force flooded into her, trying to steer her thoughts along its course, but she rooted herself in the present, openly defying it as she set about crafting a leash.

Even with all her instruction, the raw power coursing through Blake's body still threatened to overwhelm her. Fear and uncertainty hammered at her chest, making it difficult to focus her attention and exercise precision movements inside the panel's machinery. She started physically shaking from the strain of coercing the small bundles of circuitry in the door's encoding chip into disengaging. Blake's skin glimmered with a red glow, shining faintly as she struggled to tame the unruly energy, but it was no use, and she felt her concentration fall apart with a gasp.

 _Is this truly all I am capable of?_ Blake asked herself, leaning her flushed face against the cool metal door and straining to breathe against the black fear that was squeezing her chest tight. She was supposed to be strong, able to call on the Force at a whim in order to satisfy her needs, and yet her desires were forfeit in the face of a kriffing security lock?!

 _Nothing is impossible when you embrace the full power of the Dark Side, my Apprentice._ Adam's familiar response to all of her failures whispered insidiously through her skull. He didn't even have to know about her inadequacies anymore to berate her. Blake was more than capable of doing that herself.

She understood that she wasn't meeting expectations even if no one explicitly said so, but every time she tried to deepen her connection to the Dark Side it felt like her whole being was being shredded inside a black hole. She couldn't help but pull away from the void in fear. Blake knew she was weak, despicable, and a coward in every sense of the word, but she was so _afraid._

Her emotions whirling in full-tilt, Blake pounded one of her fists into the door out of frustration, suddenly furious and disgusted with herself all at once. The dent she made in the durasteel alloy was surprising, but even more so was the fact that someone on the other side actually jumped up to open the door, or at least they tried to. When the door slid upwards with a hiss, its progress was halted by the bulge in its frame, jamming itself stuck as a result.

"What in the stars?" An irritated voice asked, followed by the shuffling of clothing as the voice's owner got down on their knees. Blake hesitantly stepped back to allow a willowy young woman with pristine white hair wearing an Imperial officer's uniform to start crawling through the small opening under the door, smiling ever so slightly once she realized who the officer was.

Her ponytail was restrained beneath her black cap, and her pale, unblemished face painted a stark contrast to the ebony fabric that comprised her uniform. Most interestingly, there was a thumb-sized, gold token portraying a Tie Fighter firing its cannons on her crisp lapel. The small collection of lasers to the token's right, seven at a glance, denoted this officer was an ace Starfighter pilot with as many confirmed aerial victories.

"Congratulations, First Lieutenant Weiss Schnee, you've just been awarded the privilege of accompanying me on a dangerous assignment." Blake faked the coldness in her voice, still amazed at how easily she could fool others with nothing more than a demanding tone and a little lip-curling. Even an accomplished veteran of space combat like Weiss snapped to attention, although that response was probably more the fault of her upbringing or Imperial discipline than the young woman's own gullibility.

Lieutenant Schnee had a reputation for following orders with a tenacity that bordered on the fanatic. That normally would have been enough for Blake to pass Weiss off as another mindless lackey jockeying for a promotion, but there was a rumor floating around the mess hall that the Lieutenant's wealthy father, Kalte, was extremely . . . displeased, for lack of a better word, with his daughter's decision to join the Imperial Navy.

She'd learned between mouthfuls of bland, tasteless rations that Kalte Schnee was apparently the Chief Executive Officer of a burgeoning research and development firm that specialized in the study of artificial intelligence. Blake suspected that if all the idle chatter was correct, he'd had every intention of grooming Weiss after his own image. If that much was true, the young woman before her was more brazen than she appeared to be.

Weiss stood perfectly still in front of the broken door, eyes staring straight ahead and arms clasped rigidly behind her back. With the exception of that ludicrous, off-center ponytail traveling half-way down her back, she looked the pinnacle of Imperial conformity, but Blake could sense the emotional turmoil inside her.

There was controlled rage at being subjugated to a faunus, eagerness at the prospect of currying favor with influential individuals, and an indistinct fear that something terrible at already occurred. All of it only served to frighten Blake, tethering her to the Dark Side even as she tried to cut ties with it, but there was something else, a flicker of emotion the Inquisitor yearned for: hope. Blake wasn't disciplined enough with the Force yet to sense anything more definite in the woman, but she was drawn to how powerful and warm the feeling had been, if only for a moment.

"I am honored to serve one such as yourself." Weiss paused before saluting, drawing Blake's attention back to the less interesting aspects of her character. Her confusion over the proper protocol for responding to an Inquisitor was palpable to Blake. She empathized with Weiss's uncertainty, familiar with the slight tinge of fear that permeated her presence.

"May I inquire as to where you will be taking me?" The lieutenant asked, her icy blue eyes frowning at Blake's quiet laugh.

"As it stands, _you_ will be ferrying me around. I'm not a pilot, and I need someone capable of handling my shuttle." Blake told her, far more pleased than was necessary at the crestfallen look on the Schnee's face. There was little doubt she had been expecting something more glamorous.

Without waiting for a response, the Inquisitor turned on her heel and resumed walking down the busy corridor towards the hanger blast doors, playing the unyielding superior and desperately hoping to avoid a confrontation. When the sound of another pair of black boots clipping briskly against the floor reached both sets of her ears, Blake allowed her lips to curl into a half-smile, wriggling her feline assets with genuine enthusiasm for the first time in ages.

Blake could feel her Master's oppressive presence recede the farther away she got from him, lightening the load on her shoulders. She knew that without him staring over her shoulder she was free to pursue the mission anyway she wanted. Adam was always rushing headlong at his foes, pitting his might against theirs' in a test of brute force, but Blake yearned for her own chance to excel, to be able to prove she was worthy of her Master's training.

With no one to get in the way, Blake knew her life was about to change for the better.

xXx

As sure as a Hutt was up to no good, Javik knew he was finished. He could barely breathe, probably had a punctured lung or something, not that it mattered. The Jedi, if that's really what she was, stood menacingly over him, brandishing her lightsaber in both hands. The blue blade pointed upwards, travelling parallel to Ruby's body in some kind of guard.

This sure wasn't how he'd wanted to go out, even if it wasn't too far off from his expectations: bested in battle, predator turned prey, and all those honorable clichés he'd learned from holodramas.

Rather than continue to struggle in vain against the pint-sized mystic, Javik decided that the only prudent course of action was to prepare himself for a good death and hope the Gods still cared about shepherding lost souls like himself to Paradise. Closing his eyes to block out the metal tomb surrounding him, Javik groped through his hazy memory for the proper rites from his childhood, but he couldn't find them; he couldn't even remember which afterlife he was supposed to expect.

 _Good karking job._ Javik cursed internally, resigning himself to death-by-youngling but content with the knowledge that he wouldn't disgrace his tribe's name by dying outside of battle. He waited patiently, wounded and out of luck, but there was no final blow, no cold sting that preceded his demise. Instead, he felt and heard the pressure seals of his helmet hiss as they released of their own accord, and Javik was shocked to watch the piece of armor float lazily off his head and into Ruby's outstretched hand.

Her eyes roamed across his face, taking in his short brown hair and unshaven stubble, a frame for his emerald eyes and what few scars he had on his cheeks. She almost looked surprised at how young he was, only a year or so left 'til he was out of his teens, as if she'd forgotten her own age. Perhaps the most striking detail of his appearance was the pair of floppy canine ears folded over themselves, one of the few things he still had to remember Vale by.

"Well? Do it already. You're wasting both of our time just standing there, sweetheart." Javik coughed, not too terribly concerned about the blood bubbling past his lips. The bounty hunter expected Ruby to oblige, ending his life with one flourish of her weapon, but she simply smiled benevolently back at him. With a huff, she deactivated her lightsaber and stowed it away on her belt loop. Javik didn't take his eyes off the cylinder.

"You don't listen very well, do you?" She asked rhetorically, kneeling by his side. The lightsaber dangled invitingly off her hip, close enough for him to snatch it and turn the tables. "I already told you that I have no intention of killing you."

"It's certainly not what I'm known for." Javik acknowledged with a chuckle, thinking about all the lessons he didn't plan on taking to heart. Resting his head against the floor, he struggled to keep himself from biting Ruby when she started reaching for his neck. Her slim, curled fingers drew back sharply when a threatening snarl slipped past his lips, but only for a moment. Javik growled when she leaned forward again and tugged on a latch behind the curve of his breastplate with a bright twinkle in her eyes, but that didn't stop her from prying off the heavy ablative armor plating protecting his chest even as he tried feebly to push her arms away.

"Let me help you." The Jedi whined childishly, tossing the breastplate aside with a Force-fueled burst of strength and crossing her arms from above him until he slowly nodded, holding her gaze as his arms dropped to his sides. Ruby ran her hands gingerly across his torso like she was trying to comfort a skittish nexu cub, poking and prodding as she went, but Javik bristled uncomfortably as she searched him for injuries.

This was Javik's chance: swipe the lightsaber off her belt while she's distracted, lob off one of her arms, and run back to the spaceport like a rancor was on his tail, but he left the weapon alone, asking a question before he realized what he was doing. "What's wrong, little Jedi? Between the insults and all this touchy feely business, you're acting a lot like my copilot." Javik joked lightly, stiffening in pain when the Jedi pressed her hands into the empty space where his fifth and sixth ribs should have been.

"Your copilot? Does that mean you have a ship?" Ruby gushed naively, gray eyes shimmering obliviously to the subtext. She closed her eyes while struggling to reign in her bursting emotions, emptying her mind like Master Ozpin had taught her as Javik opened his mouth to answer. His response fell on deaf ears as she slipped deeper into a healing trance.

Everything around her seemed to fall away. Javik's voice went unnoticed. Her own aches and pains went unnoticed. Even the sandstorm building itself into a fury outside went unnoticed. Each and every one of them were distractions, insubstantial details that kept Ruby from allowing the Force to fill her being like the conduit it required. As she sacrificed her will to the Force, the truth was revealed: there was no Ruby or Javik, only a pair of receptacles for the Light, one of which was in desperate need of repair.

The vessel formerly known as Ruby Rose was brimming with energy, and the Force guided her hands' applications of its Light, bolstering her strength even as it used her to restore the physical integrity of the broken form beneath her. She removed the pieces of his fractured ribs that were embedded in his lungs swiftly, but delicately, knitting the meat and tissue of his organs back together with a steady hand.

As Ruby worked, Javik fought to keep himself from trembling with alarm as he watched Ruby's skin begin to shine from the strain of her efforts. A disturbing itch was spreading underneath his skin, but he knew better than to move until after Ruby finished working her magic on him. Her focus broke with a sudden jerk of her head, and she collapsed across Javik's chest without warning, drooling ever so slightly.

The bounty hunter breathed a quiet sigh of relief that the added weight on his torso didn't hurt, but he stayed deathly still beneath the slim adolescent figure draped across his torso anyway, unsure of whether he should feel thankful or cheated. Javik didn't remember much of what the Elder Faunus had tried to teach him about the Gods, but the men who had taught him how to fight had drilled it into his head that it was wrong to deny your opponent a rightful death.

If Ruby was really a Jedi, she should have accepted that and permitted him to die as a fellow warrior. Of course, it wasn't hard to believe that he didn't really understand her kind all that well.

To Javik, the Force had always been another legend whispered by old drunkards with no future. Sure, he'd fought a few people that the Empire said were Jedi, but lightsabers and alien biology had always been enough to explain away any strange happenings. How was Javik to prove a Twi'lek's lekku head-tails couldn't generate a telekinetic field?

Ruby's power was undeniably real, though. Javik had spent plenty of time with humans. They were by and large an arrogant species quick to use every weapon at their disposal, and if they possesed such an ability, he'd know by now. Maybe Jedi humans were different, maybe not, but he still wondered what Ruby would do to him if he tried to leave. The Jedi all had the threat of execution hanging over their heads, and now that he knew what Ruby was she might kill him to tie up the loose end. He was troubled, but after counting her breaths as steady and slow for a few minutes, Javik decided that it was time to make himself scarce in spite of the risk.

Easing the Jedi youngling off of him, Javik slipped out from under Ruby and set about gathering his kit. Fortunately, the magnetic locks had done their job and kept his Long-rifle firmly fixed to his back, and one of his DL-44s had wound up on top of the cockpit navcomputer not too far away, but where was the second? He scoured the small craft from bow to stern, looking in every nook and cranny, but the sand pouring in faster and faster through the broken docking hatch was making it increasingly difficult. There was already a layer of sand piled more than two feet high in the cockpit that shifted like a fine powder beneath his armored boots, and it threatened to swallow him up if he moved too slowly.

 _I could probably make it alone, but with the Jedi-_

"Woah! Hold it right there hotshot." Javik interrupted his own thoughts, unable to believe that he was really considering saving the girl. "I've got no reason to bring her along and every reason to leave her to the Sand People." He argued with himself, voicing his frustrations aloud as he stood up and abandoned his search.

 _She saved your life you ungrateful sleemo. Don't you owe her this much?_ That stupid sentimental voice in his head that always got him into trouble growled back. As usual, realizing his conscience was full of it didn't help Javik control his thoughts.

"Don't you remember what her kind did to the faunus?" He ranted at himself, getting more emotional when he felt his resistance falter.

 _Her blade's the wrong color. Red's your enemy, not blue._ His conscience noted thoughtfully, using logic against him.

Unable to refute that point, the bounty hunter sighed angrily. "Got me there, I do."

 _So you've decided?_ Javik's morality gloated, exerting its influence over him yet again.

"Well, I can't keep arguing with myself forever can I?" Javik grunted, slapping a fresh power cell into his sidearm before securing it away inside his left gauntlet's storage compartment situated just behind the wrist. He paced the shuttle's length and smiled in spite of himself when Ruby gave a noisy snore.

"When this is all over, Ruby's reimbursing me for the lost wages." Javik muttered at the bulkhead without conviction, shaking his head and failing to scowl properly. Sparing a second glance at her, he felt the last of his anger dissipate. How was he supposed to stay mad at that sleeping face, especially when she had spared his life.

"We're both gonna regret trusting each other . . . You know that, right?" Javik asked the sleeping Jedi ruefully as he walked back towards Ruby and moved to reattach his breastplate. Her ears twitched at his words, making Javik pause, but she didn't offer any answer and he got back to gathering the last of his gear before the sand swallowed any more of it.

Bending over to grab his breastplate earned Javik a sharp shooting pain in his chest, and he gnashed his pointed canines, growling though his teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the metal and realized he might not be as healed as he first thought. Straightening cautiously, all his senses on alert for another spike through his ribs, he heaved the breastplate against his chest, fumbling with the latch between his collarbones until it finally caught. With that done, Javik was able to apply a firm pressure across the armor's surface, triggering the suit's seals to engage.

Donning his helmet next, Javik removed his crimson cloak and carefully wrapped Ruby's unconscious form inside it, hoping the fabric would be enough to protect her skin from the razor-edged sands. He did try to keep from aggravating her injuries, but several small yelps and whimpers had him swearing at his earlier efficiency.

Holding his prize but leaving his pride and an expensive heavy sidearm behind, the Jedi was paying for that to, Javik stepped out into the blinding sandstorm with the red bundle held tightly against his chest.

He activated the antennae mounted outside his helmet, hoping to get a fix on the Mos Eisley spaceport. Unfortunately, all the wind and sand interfered with the signal transmitter, and Javik never did get more than white noise squealing painfully in his ears. Still, he could see the sand dune he'd slid down to get here, and he started stumbling towards it. At least, Javik felt fairly certain it was the same one. He was a hunter, and hunters didn't get lost. Even if that hill looked exactly like all the others, Javik knew he was heading in the right direction. Well . . . it was probably the way to the spaceport . . . Maybe . . . There was always a chance . . .

"FIERFEK!"


	3. Shots, Schemes, and Schnees

Yang Xiao-Long, bounty hunter, smuggler, and copilot to the biggest worrywart this side of the Core, slammed her seventh or eighth, possibly eleventh, round of Corellian brandy back with a flourish. Stuck in the middle of nowhere central, she had only wanted to have a couple innocent drinks at the local cantina while Javik was off tracking down his mark, but Yang's plans for a quick outing had quickly devolved into a vicious cycle of placing bets and downing shots of potent liquor the moment this dirty, alien slimeball whose name she couldn't remember had accused her of being a lightweight.

Yang held her empty glass up for all the spectators to see in the dim light and ignored the rebellious grumblings of her stomach long enough to wink at the white, furry bothan across the table, daring him with purple eyes swimming in alcohol to try and line up two more shots.

A roar of strange grunts and honks rose up from the alien hordes cheering and jeering the blonde's continued success, drowning out the band's latest encore as she blew a kiss out into the masses crowding around the table, stifling a bubble of laughter when a small scuffle broke out between an Ithorian hammerhead and some scrawny Rodian.

Sadly, a large, muscular man with darkened skin everyone called "Junior" and some of his tuxedo-wearing bouncers swooped in to break them up with cuffs to the neck and stun batons, spoiling her fun all too soon.

Yang smiled sweetly at Junior to mask her displeasure when he turned to look wearily at her, and she waved sloppily for his benefit. Shaking his head, Junior started pushing and shoving his way through the alien bodies filling the cantina to get to her with a disapproving frown. With his pressed shirt, black suit, and full beard, Junior struck a masculine profile that might have been more attractive if his constant flirting didn't remind Yang of her dusty, old uncle Qrow's lewd sense of humor.

"Tell me something, Blondie." Junior bent over and placed his palms on the table as he spoke, blocking Yang's view of the Bothan she was attempting to drink under the table. "Is it too much to ask that you don't start a brawl in my bar?" He asked, jerking his thumb towards the two aliens being dragged out the front door by his bouncers. "Some old geezer killed a patron yesterday and cut off another's hand, so I'm on some watch list the local garrison wrote up. I don't know what'll happen if the Empire comes knocking, but Stormtroopers are bad for business with my kind of clientele." Junior said, grabbing a gold credit ingot off the table and twirling it between his knuckles. It occurred to Yang that there were too many ingots in play for her to tell who'd waged that particular bet.

"Shure thang, bud." Yang slurred her speech and tried to wave Junior away while peaking under Junior's thick arms to make sure the Bothan wasn't cheating, but his frown only shifted to a glare at her attitude. The blonde blew out a long, exaggerated sigh as she slouched back in her seat. She didn't need some stuffy strongman around killing her good time, but if it helped put his mind at ease so she could get back to drinking it was worth the breath.

"I swaer," Yang struggled to speak past the numb slab of meat in her mouth, proud of the results. "-I well doo mah best to . . . " Her voice trailed off as she lost her train of thought, distracted by the sound of her opponent's chair scraping as the Bothan clambered out and started stumbling to her side of the table.

"Kwit stalling!" Yang's foe grumbled through his teeth in passable Basic, earning a derisive snort from her. A shadow passed over Junior's face, and she thought the man was about to put an end to all this, but the cantina's owner merely walked away shaking his head again.

"Faesh it," Yang slurred her speech as Junior disappeared into the crowd, sweeping her hand over the wooden tabletop covered in various credit ingots and a flimsi title for . . . something blurry. Yang couldn't tell what it was, but she knew it was probably valuable if the Bothan had bet it. "Yu've lost errything." The bounty hunter bragged, twirling a strand of her golden locks and making the Bothan's hair flare out with livid irritation as he snorted through the oversized nostrils in his snout.

"One mar rond." He snarled and banged his balled fists down on the table as he spoke. It hurt Yang's eyes just to track the movement, and she almost fell out of her chair trying.

"Yo've gut nutting left to wager." She accused after straightening up somewhat in her seat, lurching forward to stick one of her fingers under his nose menacingly. At that, the other patrons within the Mos Eisley cantina began nodding in agreement with her, even the Bothan band members' bulbous yellow heads were bobbing. As much as everyone wanted to see the lucrative competition go on, there were no lines of credit allowed unless you wanted a blaster bolt between the eyes.

"Thot's not tue." He roared, waving over a small faunus woman dressed in patched rags. Yang narrowed her eyes, a bitter taste filling her mouth that had nothing to with the queasy flips her stomach was doing. The woman's brown rabbit ears were drooping low across her skull, and her whole body trembled as she inched her way closer. There were bruises in different stages of healing discoloring her thin, skeletal face, and her hazel eyes were sunken back in their sockets, fixated on her own feet.

"One. Mar. Rond." The bothan challenged, pulling on his slave's choke halter to emphasize his wager. "Wennor tooks all." He smiled, pushing the faunus towards the table's center where she stood beside the wooden furniture looking docile and confused.

Yang's head swam and her vision blurred as she leaned back into her seat, struggling to think rationally through an alcoholic haze. If she lost, Javik would be furious. There was a whole standard year's worth of pay on her side of the table alone, and she did still owe him a debt . . . although he hadn't been very insistent on collecting it for quite some time now - and there was absolutely zero chance that cute little bunny was being kept around for physical labor, not with that hollow dazed expression . . .

Yang felt a heated rage flare up in her belly, hot enough to dispel some of the nausea, and she scowled at the bothan she now knew to be no-good two-bit slaver scum on top of his well-deserved reputation as an arrogantly pompous drunk, all the encouragement he needed to pour out their last shots. His claws were shaking, spilling plenty of the strong drink before there was enough in each glass to constitute a proper round. Local and Galactic currencies were exchanging hands, but Yang had no idea who they're betting on this time. She could hold her liquor with the best of 'em, but . . . Yang's doubts slowly faded into the distant background when she saw the faunus woman staring hopelessly at her, practically begging her to at least try.

 _Javik be damned! I can't abandon her!_

Taking the initiative, Yang wrapped her fingers around the closer glass, gut lurching when she pulled her arm up too fast. She squeezed her eyes shut as a bombardment of painful lights and squeals assaulted her senses, but the jeers of her opponent and his supporters motivated her to ignore her rolling stomach long enough to press the glass against her lips.

Yang bit back a gag as she opened her mouth. Her nose twitched fiercely at the smell of alcohol searing her nostrils, but she opened her eyes to stare the bothan down across the table as she practically inhaled the noxious fluid in a failed effort to avoid tasting it. Yang gasped as what felt like liquid fire scorched her throat one last time, and she had to bite down on her tongue to stop the rise of bile, a coppery taste filling her mouth instead.

All eyes in the cantina were on her, waiting breathlessly to see if she collapsed. Yang was tearing up, the room was spinning faster and faster by the moment, and there were now three bothan sleemos sitting across the table, but the tiny clink of her empty glass being sat shakily on the table without her spilling her guts across the room was a victory met with thunderous applause.

"Guys, guys, guys." She groaned pitifully and clutched at her skull, trying to suppress the migraine driving durasteel rivets into her brain's gray matter. After a few more seconds in which absolutely no one quieted down, the pain and nausea were tolerable, and she lifted her head up to smirk with no small degree of confidence at her opponent, all three of him.

The middle bothan was staring back in shock. Clearly, he never really expected he'd have to take another shot. His eyes traveled from Yang to her glass and back again several times before the situation clicked. The bothan reached for his own round but missed. He tried again once, then twice, and finally a third time until his claws found their target. His furry face scrunched itself into a grimace when he pressed his snout against the glass, but then he made a mistake. Rather than down the whole shot in one swift, painful ordeal, he tried to actually drink it, so he wound up spluttering and spitting it back out with force on his first pull.

The whole cantina stilled and fell silent as the bothan kept on coughing, their eyes staring fearfully at his opponent. Yang was covered in his mess. It was on her brown smuggler vest, as well as staining the front of the white blouse she wore beneath it, but most damaging of all were the glistening collections of spittle and liquor he'd coughed all over Yang's hair.

Yang didn't consider herself a vain person. She had always preferred to live life for whatever worth it offered, getting her highs from death-defying thrills and spontaneous competitions like this little event, but she did have one rule, one imperative for others to know: Don't mess with the hair. Each individual strand of her thick, curling locks of gold was precious to her in way not even Javik could understand. So, when someone, say a bothan slaver, got globs of his spit and good Corellian brandy in it, she had no plans for letting him off easy.

The bothan had barely started to regain his composure, but that didn't stop a fist clad in yellow _beskar'gam_ from striking his jawbone with a sharp crack and all the force Yang's intoxicated muscles could muster. He flew out of his chair with a dull thud, and she cautiously tested her balance, slowly clambering to her feet while her eyes blazed with a menacing scarlet glow. Fortunately for the Bothan, yet unfortunately for everyone and everything else that hadn't already fled the cantina's premises, he was already unconscious. However, Yang's head burned with the insatiable need to vent her outrage, and she had every intention of making Junior wish he'd fronted the extra credits to insure this dingy cantina.

xXx

Darth Taurus brooded in silence and paced the empty command deck as his apprentice flew away with that conniving Schnee at the helm of her _Lambda-class_ shuttle, distinctly uncomfortable with what he was about to do. He'd already cleared the room of any covert listening devices and made it clear to the crew that under no circumstances was he to be disturbed. He had prepared himself for this day, knowing she might force his hand. He had planned for it, hardened his will for it, and yet . . . Adam raged internally at his own indecisiveness.

As his Apprentice, Blake was well on her way to mastering the _Ataru_ lightsaber form, jumping, flipping, and slashing around Proxy-Model sparring bots from all sides in an effort to . . . evade them? If he was being honest, Darth Taurus still didn't understand what she hoped to accomplish with such flourishes. Just smash through their guard and be done with it. Her so-called "style" looked petty and foolish to him. Aside from bolstering her physical abilities, a necessary tenet for Form IV, Blake's control of the Force was laughable at best. Adam had killed younglings whom had exhibited far more power than his Apprentice, but there was little he could do because she was so afraid of the strength she wielded, so unwilling to fully embrace the Dark Side.

Darth Taurus began roaring helplessly in frustration and fear of losing his Apprentice to the Light, a heavy, throbbing growl of misery and pain that echoed from deep within the explosive knot boiling in his gut. Control interfaces shattered and the durasteel walls screeched in protest, buckling under supernatural strains as his emotional turbulence surged outward in waves. Adam bellowed on, heedless of the destruction going on all around him, because it gave voice to his agony, to the conflict within him.

He was a weapon, created as a tool by another, for another. The Emperor had many enemies, and it was his job to root them out and eliminate them, but he doubted Blake was ruthless enough to do the same. That would have been acceptable if his Apprentice was anyone else, he would simply slaughter them without a second thought, but the fact that it was Blake _bothered_ him. He hated his Apprentice with every fiber of his being for her cowardly weakness, but the idea of killing her and moving on with his life somehow seemed infinitely worse than allowing her to continue disappointing him.

Adam roared with all his might, leveling everything around him in a blind fury because this excursion was to be her test. That's all this "mission" had ever been about, her one and only chance at redemption. Exposing her to the Jedi would insure her commitment to the Dark Side, but he had no faith in her oaths or her loyalties, and so he bellowed until the main viewport began to crack; and when the blast shield came down, the hollow clang echoing throughout the room was met with silence, just like the last vestige of his rage as he reigned in his power with a great effort.

Slow, raspy breaths and the cloth rustling atop his heaving chest were the only sounds filling the void as Darth Taurus waited for some kind of epiphany, a sign from the Force that it was time for him to embrace the Light. That is what the Jedi holocron he'd found among Blake's belongings had said, right?

 _Remember padawan._ Adam had smirked at the irony of hearing that, even though there was something soothing about his slow, methodical speech. It was almost like listening to his grandfather again after so many years. _When you are at your lowest, and the Dark Side is all you can see, it is up to you to be the Light, to spark a flame that keeps all the galaxy's hatred at bay._ Family or not, Taurus had killed the old Bull in some forgotten spat, and this Jedi had probably met a similar fate long ago. _This is your burden. This is your strength._

"Bah!" Adam waved away the memories of the deluded fool's empty, pre-recorded words, growing angrier and angrierwith each passing second. While there was not even a shred of sense in the Jedi's message, he knew it would appeal to Blake, that it might have already. It was too poetic and idealistic not to. The girl needed guidance and discipline to become stronger, not the passive drivel she'd found. That was why he'd gone through all the trouble of setting up this charade for Blake, rather than dispose of her like The Emperor had ordered him to months ago.

Every scrap of intelligence he'd intercepted before planning this deceitful masquerade suggested that there was an old Jedi Master by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi living under an alias on Tatooine. No vessels, save one, had been allowed to leave the planet's surface since his arrival. Along with a second Imperial star destroyer, the _Winter's_ _Howl_ had given chase to an YT-1300 Light Freighter with the transponder call sign _Millennium Falcon_ that had fled the system less than one rotation ago, but there had been only faint whisperings of the Light onboard. In contrast, the warm, almost-bubbly presence somewhere on the fringes of Tatooine's great oceans of sand was like a beacon calling out to him, but it was clearer than ever before what Adam needed to do if he wanted to keep his Apprentice alive.

The Galactic Empire was as bloated and corrupt as the Republic it succeeded, its strength a farce if it couldn't wipe out the growing dissent spreading like a plague throughout the Outer Rim territories on its own. Change was coming. He could feel the first real stirrings of rebellion within the Force, and it was fast approaching. Through them, he would insure Palpatine's reign was cleansed in fire, and maybe, just maybe, he could secure a safe place for Blake at his side.

xXx

As an Inquisitor, Blake warranted a certain . . . status, and her _Lambda_ -class shuttle was coming to reflect that importance. The hold had been completely revamped over the years, now hosting an equal amount of amenities to that of an overpriced apartment on Coruscant; including a small bedroom, smaller refresher, and a sanisteam so tiny she couldn't even sit inside it to wash her feet without hugging her knees. In keeping with the Imperial color scheme, her bed was simply adorned with stiff white sheets, a light gray comforter, and a _slightly_ darker gray pillow. Crammed in the sparse living room's corner was a large, comfortable black recliner for reading from the stacks upon stacks of datapads replete with intelligence on absolutely anything and everything that just might be useful to one of her missions as well as countless novels for her own pleasure.

Despite the familiarity of the space, Blake refused to meditate there as she didn't want to taint it with the negative energies she'd collect. Instead, Blake sat cross-legged in what was left of the shuttle's hold, now nothing more than a tight hallway separating the cockpit from her personal area and the boarding ramp at the ship's rear. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she was deep in her meditations. Her breath slipped easily past her lips, speckled with icy crystals. A casual onlooker might have blamed the environmental controls for the cold, but that couldn't explain why the frost layered upon every surface ebbed and flowed with the movements of her lips; nor could it make sense of why the girl's skin glowed faintly, the hall's sole source of illumination.

Having shed her heavy robes in the same closet Weiss had procured her own disguise, Blake braved the cold in a set of demure black pants. They were tucked neatly inside a pair of high-heeled sable boots, unlike her soft white-felt jacket; that exposed her toned midriff and the lithe, elastic-covered muscle of her lower arms. Like the hull, she was coated in a thin sheet of ice, but it didn't distress her all that much because she wasn't truly there. Blake was lost inside the depths of her own mind, looking inward for inspiration and conviction as she recited the mantras of her oath to the Dark Side.

"Peace is a lie. There is only Passion." She began impassively, opening herself to the Force and diving deep. In this moment, there was no goal to attain, nor was there a purpose to strive for, and knowing this eased Blake's fears. Freed from expectations, she was able to dissect her own feelings and interpretations of the truth without impediment.

"Through Passion, I gain Strength." And plenty of trouble, Blake knew. The frost around her began to harden into ice formations, sharpening into thick spikes that grew out of the walls. Adam's rage certainly fueled his immense Power, but emotions came with limits. Anger and fear could blind you, drive you towards foolish choices.

"Through Strength, I gain Power." The ice began to fissure, breaking apart as her brow furrowed in increased concentration. That particular line had always given Blake pause. Were Power and Strength not synonymous? Why couldn't Strength be broken down into Power? It was only a minor grammar discrepancy, but such inconsistencies should not exist in a perfect code. They _didn't_. What did that mean for her oaths?

"Through Power, I gain Victory." But Victory over what? Was she expected to defeat herself? Her enemies? What happened when the Sith claimed their place atop the rest of the Galaxy and there were no more opponents to face? What was left to conquer if not themselves, and why shouldn't she start at the end and "gain Victory" over her own weaknesses now? Broken shards of ice began whirling around Blake at incredible speeds, but they fell to the ground when a ghostly whisper murmured unintelligibly beside her.

Blake flicked her ears in annoyance, surprised to feel an unfamiliar presence brushing against the edges of her own. She lashed out defensively at the intruder, but it eluded her strikes easily, bouncing from one side of her senses to another only to settle just out of reach where it reformed. Blake could practically taste its amusement on her tongue, but there didn't seem to be any malice in the presence. Somewhat reluctantly, Blake returned to her meditations, resigned to an audience.

"Through Victory, my Chains are broken." Unbidden images of Adam holding her back in various ways both physical and figurative flooded her mind, and Blake panicked, rushing to hide away the incriminating thoughts, but her unwanted guest was quicker. Blake gasped in shock as the carefree presence surged forward to poke and prod at her memories. She expected pain. Surely her Master had sensed her disrespect and was going to punish her for her insolence, but she was caught off guard for a second time when a gentle warmth suffused her bones. Blake caught herself chuckling without a reason, and she resisted the urge to strike out again at the pleasant sensations surrounding her.

' _You're so mopey.'_ A girl's voice drifted clearly through her skull, bringing the smell of peppermints alongside an invisible pout and sparking a cautious smile to spread across Blake's features. Everything in Adam's instructions was screaming for Blake to pull away from the contact, but she found herself unable to resist strengthening the connection between them, purposefully reaching out for the childish visitor and abandoning her mantras for the moment. The girl just felt so . . . happy, as if she wasn't burdened with worries like Blake, but there was more to it than that. The Force was telling Blake this child's path was intricately bound with her own, and she needed more permacrete answers, right now.

"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" Blake winced. Her voice had come out much harsher than she'd meant it to.

' _Wouldn't you like to know?'_ The girl spoke coyly, but there was a hint of wariness about her now. ' _Why are you so afraid of him, the man with the red hair?'_ She continued, soothing her suspicions almost without effort. Blake felt slim arms enveloping her shoulders, wrapping her into a hug as she began to tremble in fear of her Master's wrath. This was a mistake, that much was becoming abundantly clear, but Blake surprised herself by responding anyway.

"My Master doesn't approve of the frequency of my meditations or the answers I seek, and his punishments can be quite . . . unpleasant." She remarked with a quiver, unconsciously fingering a white scar along her throat, left there by the electrified charge of static binders. Blake could picture her visitor's tiny lips. She didn't know how, but she could see that they were framed by dirty brown hair and pursed into a disapproving frown. Still, the vehemence in her response was still unexpected. ' _What are you doing with a monster like that?'_ She asked, pressuring Blake for an answer.

"Adam's all I have left." Blake's voice cracked as the words spilled out of her in a rush, and she struggled to stave off the memories of Vale's invasion assaulting her mind. Raging fires and thick smoke coupled with the vengeful howls and whistling blades of the Canine faunus embroiled in a hopeless battle lapped at her conscience, seeming to sear away at her flesh as easily as the sounds sliced through her mind. Blake wanted to scream aloud as pain blossomed throughout her body and wracked her skull, but she gave an involuntary sigh instead when she felt the girl merging their presences more firmly, alleviating some of her agony almost instantly. Blake still whimpered as the heat died away, but she felt the girl purposefully sharing in her suffering, helping her tolerate it. It was almost like her unknown guest regretted her being in pain.

"Why are you doing this?" Blake asked, mind racing to discover what could possibly motivate someone to take on the pain of another, but her kind visitor offered nothing but an easy, invisible smile, yawning as her welcome presence started fading away. _'I've gotta wake up now, friend, but I'll try and find you again later.'_ The girl's voice sounded like someone yelling from far away now. In a single, jarring moment she was gone, leaving Blake alone with a host of unanswered questions.

The last echoes of her warmth hadn't even settled before Blake was choking back a strangled sob. The only people Blake remembered comforting her were Darth Taurus and her parents, but she'd practically forgotten their deaths almost immediately after the fact. She'd watched Adam's scarlet blade cut them down with her own eyes, smelled their scorched flesh, but still she'd been so eager to go with him. At the time, any fate had seemed better than being slaughtered with the rest of her kind on a dying world, and Adam had promised to make her strong like him. Was she wrong to abandon her people to their fate, especially if her fears had never come to fruition?

Vale was still populated by the faunus, and even now they were still resisting incursions by the local security and the occasional platoon of Stormtroopers. Blake had been a coward long before Adam had come to her home, abandoning her people in the midst of a minor raid like the Gods were coming to wipe them all off the surface of the planet. Never mind that the signs she'd been taught to look for hadn't preceded Adam's arrival, she could only think that no one but the Son could sweep the village warriors aside like dry leaves in a storm. She'd HAD to go with him.

Blake shook her head violently, scrubbing at her eyes to get rid of any possible tears the memories might have brought own. There had been no other alternative that hadn't involved her own death, and that much was still very true. Her Master had been more than generous in saving her, he'd been disobeying the Emperor, and she couldn't allow any doubt to infect her mind when _He_ was still displeased with her continued existence.

Blake had always strived to please Adam, training for hours on end until her calves ached, her arms were filled with lead, and her mind was too exhausted to form a coherent sentence, much less draw upon the Force. Her dedication, if not her progress, had prompted Adam to gift her with her first real lightsaber. Almost unconsciously, Blake began tracing her fingers around the hilt of _Gambol Shroud_ as the memories swirled around her skull.

 _A blade unlike any other sprang to life from the hilt in Blake's small grasp. Flat, not cylindrical, and sharp, not rounded, it took the shape of swords from a forgotten era when war meant metal clashing against metal. At first glance, it appeared to somehow glow black, but a closer examination revealed that it was in fact devoid of any color at all and that the white sheen coating the blade was similar to the effect of light dying inside a black hole's event horizon._

 _A smile formed on her lips as she tightened her grip behind the weapon's angled crossguard, flickering her ears at the way it whistled and whirred with every experimental swing more loudly than her Master's lightsaber ever had. She could feel the weight of thousands of years of history rooted inside it, hundreds of violent owners and several times more deaths whispered back at her. White lightning crackled and danced across the blade's surface, and it practically screeched with frequency interference when Adam suddenly slashed into it with his own scarlet weapon, effortlessly knocking the ancient blade from Blake's hand. Deactivating in mid-air, the weapon clattered to the ground several paces away._

 _The hilt slapped against Adam's outstretched palm as he called it back, tossing it to Blake as he spoke. "Its name is Darksabre, or perhaps that was merely its model. Rename it or don't; either way, the weapon belongs to you now, and I expect you to master its use as well as all the methods for maintaining its condition."_

 _"Where did it come from?" Blake couldn't help but ask, her insatiable curiosity getting the better of her as usual. Adam affectionately ruffled her furry ears with a heavy hand, chuckling as he answered her question. "As I'm sure you've already realized my studious Apprentice, its plasma-based design is a precursor to more contemporary lightsabers." He started, motioning for Blake to join him in sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor. "This particular example was stored within the Jedi Temple that existed in the days of the Old Republic more than four thousand years ago until the Mandalorians sacked it, stealing this weapon among other artifacts. Passed down through generations of clan leaders, it somehow wound up in the hands of Emperor Palpatine during the Clone Wars, although I'm not privy to all the specifics there." Adam finished too quickly for her liking._

 _Blake knew there were more details her Master could add, but she didn't dare push him for information. She'd been lucky to learn this much, and his righteous temper could flare up on a decacred, especially if he was challenged. Instead, Blake merely inclined her head respectfully, pretending she was content with his answer._

"We're about to breach the upper atmosphere." Weiss called from the cockpit, drawing Blake back into the present before she could relive her first disastrous sparring match with _Gambol Shroud_. "You might want to strap in. This can get pretty rough." Weiss added as Blake stepped inside the cramped space, and the Inquisitor caught herself reaffirming that her weapon was still secured to her hip, unsure why her skin was crawling uneasily.

Sparing a glance at Weiss as the pilot angled the shuttle towards the surface of Tatooine, Blake took in Weiss with a practiced eye while fumbling with the complex rigging before calling her haphazard strapping good enough.

Weiss had changed out of her Imperial officer's uniform already. A seamless piece of white cloth with no sleeves hung loosely off her shoulders and her silvery tresses were unbound, cascading down past the small of her back in messy frizzes and purposefully sloppy curls. Even her caf-colored boots were scuffed and patchy, fitting her disguise of a smuggler trying to fake a bit of class.

Clearly, Blake's freshly requisitioned pilot was actually quite intelligent, as she understood the importance of blending in. Still, the woman's khaki slacks were far too clean for Blake's liking, and what was that around her waist? It looked like Weiss had tied a pair of pure black sashes around her waist. Together, the two pieces of fabric managed to cover her waistline and the outsides of her thighs but nothing else. They served no discernable purpose that Blake could see.

Blake was still judging the disguise when the shuttle bucked like a wild ronto, and before the Inquisitor had any time to ask, Weiss was already putting the _Lambda_ through her paces. Her superstitious charge may not be familiar with the sounds of space combat, but Weiss had spent enough time in cockpits to recognize the pitched wail of a near-miss from a turbolaser.

 _Damn you, Taurus!_ Weiss cursed internally, fully believing she'd been found out by the faunus. Instinct guided her hands now, and she threw the transport into a dizzying dive towards the surface, desperate to throw off any potential targeting systems.

 _What's our situation? The Winter's Howl's primary armament are two batteries of ten heavy turbolasers slaved over to a main targeting system. As things stand, it won't take more than a shot or two from a single turbolaser to turn this shuttle into a heap of flaming slag._ _That's not ideal, but it only matters if they are able to hit us._

With that in mind, Weiss leveled out only to juke hard to the right, ignoring Blake's startled screams of protest. Her crash webbing dug into her skin and she had already dialed up the power on the inertial dampeners to one hundred percent in an effort to compensate for the gravity getting heavier by the second before Weiss realized the lethally oversized bolts weren't coming from orbit like she'd anticipated. Instead, bright green flak was surging outwards from some kind of monastery with two big towers in the distance off her port wing. Already, they were leaving it behind, and Weiss allowed herself to breathe a sigh of quiet relief, glancing at her scanners for any additional threats. So, the Inquisitors hadn't figured out her secret, and Weiss was still safe. Of course, there was one of them sitting right next to her and struggling to work the release to her crash webbing, but it wouldn't be long before Weiss could ditch her. All she needed was an opportunity.

"Next stop, Mos Eisley spaceport." Weiss muttered under her breath, easing the controls towards that destination.

"Oh, by all means, please don't try to get us there in one piece on my account." Blake spat back irritably, nursing a bruise forming along her shoulder.

 _Trust me on this you blackmailing, power-hoarding schutta: I won't._

 **Author's Note: I won't be posting another chapter over the Christmas Break, because I'll be spending time with my friends and family. Thank you to every reader who favorited, followed, reviewed (Still can't believe you actually took the time, Dappere), and simply enjoyed my story. You guys keep me writing, but I still have to disconnect every once in a while. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy New Year, and Happy Holidays.**

 **P.S. I finished writing out the plot recently, and I realized that Pyrrha, Jaune, Sun, and Neptune are all completely superfluous (I'm not ashamed to admit that I had to google that word to make sure I was using it correctly) characters with no real place in the plot. You probably shouldn't expect them to even be mentioned. Additionally, this story might re-earn itself an M rating. I'll have to evaluate that as I go. Don't worry, I'm not into writing smut, (I don't know if there's an actual term. Sensual-literature?) but it's called A "Grimm" Star Wars for more than the obvious reason.**


	4. Pushing The Limits

Javik scrubbed at the grit blurring the endless sea of sand dunes into speckled, indistinct blobs with his finger, futilely trying to clean his visor, the optics mounted across his helmet, or anything else in an effort to clear up his vision now that the sandstorm was finally tapering off, reminding himself that walking straight would definitely lead him back to the spaceport.

After hunting Ruby – No! He couldn't get too used to having her around. After hunting a Jedi for days and carrying her through the brunt of a sandstorm, Javik was pushing past the limits of his endurance. It showed in his gait as he staggered forward haphazardly with his head bowed against the setting suns, struggling to form a thought through the tired sludge crowding out his mind.

That was the right way to think about exhaustion, Javik told himself as his boot sank into a dune with a soft puff of sand and air, as sludge. It wasn't a hazy cloud that could be pierced, but a thick slime that drew you inexorably towards collapse the more you tried to power through it. Fighting just to wrest his leg out of the ground, Javik acknowledged that he was running on auto-pilot, but he also knew he couldn't stop, not yet.

This whole situation felt surreal to the bounty hunter. Here he was, walking across one of the largest desert worlds in the Galaxy while holding a Jedi whose head barely came up to his chin, listening to Ruby snore every once in a while and pressing her against his armored chest because his arms were too stiff from carrying her for so long.

He didn't really notice that the bundled girl in his arms was awake until he heard a long yawn and felt the fabric in his arms start bulging out and wriggling as she stretched. That slowly clicked somewhere in Javik's sleep-deprived brain when his ears twitched inside the confines of his helmet at the new noise, but the bounty hunter still weighed the pros and cons of letting Ruby walk on her own before he decided to set his cloak down on account of the growing aches in his sore arms, not because he wanted to make sure the little brat was okay. Loosening his fingers' tight grasp on the red cloth, the bounty hunter dropped Ruby and his cloak to the ground as he tripped over the unseen crest of another sand dune.

"You brain-dead nerfherder!" Javik cursed himself hotly, startled into something resembling alertness as he stumbled clumsily over the Jedi's ensnared form in an effort to avoid crushing what he could barely see beneath a hundred-and-ten kilos of lithe muscle and amber _beskar'gam_. Javik managed to miss her, but he couldn't stop himself from tumbling back down the other side of the hill, slamming into something hard and unyielding at the bottom, or the final humiliation of having Ruby's tangled body slide into him with a muffled gasp after a similar stunt of her own. At least the Galaxy had a sense of fairness.

Short of a pained yelp when his injured side slammed into what he assumed was a boulder, Javik refused to make any noise, and he pried that gods-forsaken helmet off his head and angrily slammed it into a maglock on his hip. Both sets of his ears burned with embarrassment as he lay there catching his breath and brooding tiredly. His eyelids started drooping low again, and he found himself being lulled to sleep by the dry winds that blew hot sand into his hair. Javik could already hear Yang mocking him in the near future, probably during takeoff if events followed the usual pattern.

"First some _girl_ kicks your tail, and then a flipping rock does you in?" The blonde would tease, batting her long eyelashes to throw him off-guard as she tried to scooch closer in the cramped cockpit. It would work, and she'd be under his skin long before her hand found its way to his knee. "Does my big strong mutt need Mama Yang to kiss his booboos and make it all better?" Yang would ask. He'd flash a toothy grin at her question, trying to be smooth, but he'd fail horribly. She'd wrap a hand around the nape of his neck with a throaty chuckle that would set his skin ablaze, pull him closer while she whispered sultry words in his ear, and-

"That _huuuuurt_." The images taking up his mind broke apart in a disappointing rush as Javik's senses reminded him that he was surrounded by baked sand and little else when Ruby groaned against him, causing his eyes to jerk back open with a surprised snort. Looking back at the cloaked figure, the bounty hunter partially stifled a burst of laughter in his throat, and tried to dismiss the wave of amusement that washed over him. He knew he shouldn't find it so funny, but, for all her special powers and abilities, Ruby's whining and high-pitched voice reminded him of a naïve child.

If there was anything that shattered his image as an intimidating warrior and branded him a big pushover, he knew younglings did the trick like nothing else. It was hard for Javik to admit he couldn't really think of a good way to distance himself from Ruby, although he also spurned the notion that he had full control over it. To him, it was a kind of social instinct encoded into his blood, an inheritance from primitive ancestors that had been forced to bond with each other in the interest of survival. The massive predators that once roamed Vale might be nothing more than tall tales told around roaring bonfires now, but, as a Faunus, Javik still made snap decisions about trust and friendship.

Javik wasn't certain if that was a blessing or a curse, mostly because it had helped him meet Yang, but if he had his way, he'd just drop the kid off at whatever star system she fancied and get back to business as usual. It didn't matter how quickly he'd grown attached to her, because the only thing Javik cared about was keeping his little band of renegades and castaways alive, and to that end, the possibility of adding a new member to that number would have to wait a little longer.

Shaking his head to brush away his useless musings and kicking off against whatever offending object he'd struck at the sand dune's end, Javik shimmied away from Ruby's cloaked figure, chafing something fierce from the gritty residue clumping up inside his armor's exposed joints. Rolling heavily onto his back, he started scowling irritably when he realized that he had more immediate problems than raw skin.

Idling under low power next to Ruby and him was not a rock like Javik had thought, but a derelict Hutt sailing barge. Its impressive profile earned an awe-struck stare from Ruby as she struggled to free herself from her fabric bonds more than Javik thought a Jedi should have to, but he was more concerned with finding any potential hard-points for mounting blasters than assessing his charge's abilities. Curiously, Javik saw at least two heavy blaster rifles on this side of the deck, there was even the glint of an E-Web's menacing black barrel hanging over the railing, but he couldn't see anyone operating either of them.

To Javik, it was just another sign that no one but himself looked at danger with the proper degree of respect. It was frankly astounding to the bounty hunter that anyone who possessed that kind of firepower wouldn't make absolutely certain it was crewed and operational at all times. Then again, Javik knew he'd probably be dead if the owners of this barge were actually competent, and having a Jedi at his side would throw a hydrospanner into the mix, so maybe he could afford to relax his guard just a teensy bit.

Satisfied that they weren't in any immediate danger, Javik indulged himself with examining the craft at a more casual level like Ruby was already doing, although he kept both sets of his ears perked up and his nose in the wind to catch any hint of clanging boots or the chemical tang explosives filled the air with.

While the hull bared striking similarities to a rusted out washtub someone had flipped on its head, Javik could appreciate, and gave it major style points for, the collection of triangular, orange sails strung atop its infrastructure. The hull bore signs of conflict. Speckled with blaster burns and pitted with small scars, the barge even had a large hole under the bow. The breach's edges were blackened, almost melted out of shape, but Javik didn't smell anything dangerous. From the sloping curves of the armor plate to the flattened bottom, the general shape brought back memories of the canoes he'd watched others build as a child. Of course, those wooden vessels hadn't come equipped with powerful repulsor engines that could fly Ruby and him back to the spaceport.

Over the years since he'd left his village behind, Javik had gradually learned how to embrace his new life as a bounty hunter partly because the technology of an entire galaxy far eclipsed the sewing thread and metal swords he'd learned to wield as a child. This Hutt barge certainly wasn't a canoe, it had never been wet or ever truly sailed, but it could get him and Ruby back to the spaceport faster than they could walk; and that was good enough for him.

 _The crew's not going to just hand the barge over, even if I ask nicely._ Javik thought sardonically to himself, slipping his fingers into the grooved grip of his sidearm and easing the blaster out of his gauntlet _._ There was a white strip he'd painted across the emitter nozzle, andJavik practiced bringing the barrel to bear a few times, snapping his arm up until it stuck straight out. His eyes leveled with that little strip each time in one fluid motion, sharp and precise.

 _I guess it's no great loss. They've probably all got records for some felony or another._ The bounty hunter mulled leisurely over the morality of killing criminals. Before starting a fight or taking a contract, Javik always tried to convince himself it was okay to murder. It was an interesting game, but he rarely took it any further. At this point, it was more of a warm-up ritual than anything else. The only reason Javik felt it was still worthwhile was because it allowed him to look back and say with conviction that he'd thought things through. As long as he could do that, Javik knew he could dodge any lingering doubts or regrets about his line of work . . . well, most of them anyways. He couldn't keep every horrible, bloody memory at bay, but _that_ operation hadn't been his fault.

Shifting his shoulders back and scratching an itch behind his ear, he decided to leave his helmet mag-locked to his hip after wiping a thick, gritty film off the metal. The damn thing wouldn't do him any good if he couldn't see with it on, and visibility was as important as protection for what he was about to attempt, maybe even more so.

Close to setting, the twin suns warmed his cheeks, and the lingering light highlighted a tiny scar that followed the curve of his mouth and left Javik with a perpetual smirk plastered on his face. The scar's effect was greatly accentuated when he smiled at a fleeting thought: helping Ruby was a nice change of pace, almost like he was the "good guy" for once.

"Hey, Ruby!" Javik called, psyching himself up for a fight as he watched her turn slowly towards him out of the corner of his eye. Rolling his eyes at her theatrics, he looked over his shoulder to see the girl's body and her childish features distorted by the cloath rippling over her slim figure to its own rhythm, leaving a menacing, crimson specter that seemed to float over the sand in her place. The bounty hunter suppressed a shiver, slightly disturbed by the image Ruby presented with her shadowy, half-formed visage hidden inside his cloak's hood. The sight was enough to dim his newfound enthusiasm, a stark reminder that death was always nearby.

"Let's-" Javik rubbed at his throat to get the unwelcome tremor out of his voice, and he wondered why his throat was so dry. With a heavy grunt, he pushed through his order.

"Let's get to work."

xXx

Ruby rushed to her feet looking flustered as soon as she'd broken free of her cloak, frantically brushing sand out of her hair and wishing Javik hadn't gotten to see any of that. The grumpy Faunus probably thought she was a clumsy kid or something now, but that wasn't true . . . mostly. It'd only been hard to free herself because she was still tired from healing his ribs, not to mention exhausting the rest of her energy mending some of her own injuries while she slept, and that strange dream she'd had certainly hadn't help matters.

The brunette paused, head tilted with one hand frozen in her hair as she chewed on her chapped lips and tried to puzzle it out. Ruby had never experienced anything like that before, and she wasn't sure she could explain her feelings to anyone, but she could almost swear the dream had been real, that she'd been talking to a living, breathing person. Unfortunately, Ruby only remembered short, vivid flashes of detail about the girl from her dreams, and none of them reminded her of anybody. The Jedi could still see long, black strands of hair and piercing yellow eyes if she tried hard enough, but the itchy sand and hot air brushing against her skin distracted her.

Scrunching her cheeks, Ruby wrinkled the tip of her nose a few times as a feisty tickle fought its way up her sensitive nostrils, and the Jedi clapped a hand over her mouth as a quick sneeze slipped through her fingers. Bloody bangs falling over her eyes, Ruby flipped the hood of her cloak up and drew the collar tight to hide her flushed cheeks from Javik, even as a barrage of tiny squeaks escaped her mouth in rapid succession, stinging the walls of her nostrils each time

Ruby's shoulders jolted and her eyes teared up a little more with every sneeze, and she struggled to get her stupid nose under control even harder when Javik's voice reached her ears.

"Hey, Ruby." He called, sounding a little more upbeat than before.

Ruby ran a hand across her face, accidently smearing a thin, stringy trail of mucus over her cheek. Shuffling sheepishly in her well-worn shoes, she turned as slowly as possible towards him and tucked her chin down to hide any evidence of her mistake. With the parts of her brain that weren't whirling in full panic-mode trying to figure out if Javik had noticed the snot on her face yet, Ruby guessed that that awesome ship they'd found had something to do with the change in his mood.

Javik and her must have been the two luckiest people on Tatooine. Who just left something like that out in the desert? Didn't the owners care about thieves coming along and stealing their property? Maybe . . . it was broken. That had to be it, Ruby realized as she watched Javik roll his eyes. That hole in the front certainly looked bad. Ruby wondered if bounty hunters were supposed to know more about fixing ships than she did. It'd be pretty bad if the two of them had to guess their way through making repairs.

"Let's . . ." Javik's voice trembled, and he stopped to grab at his throat, forcing himself not to laugh.

 _Oh No!_ Ruby thought with dread, and her heart dropped with all the speed of a fireball, mimicking the shuttle she'd tried to escape in. _He sees the snot! This is terrible!_ She squealed inside her mind, frozen before him in silent shame.

This was exactly the kind of impression she'd been trying not to make. Ruby had been going for the tough, fearless Jedi approach back on the shuttle, something that she had hoped would convince him to treat her like an adult. Ruby tried to think of anything more childish than getting mucus all over her own face, but it was impossible. Javik's pale face and the way he struggled to keep himself from snickering proved it.

Ruby called on the Force to help her, letting it pull the hood of her cloak down even farther, sinking back from the fringes. She was trying to find out how hard it was to disappear like one of those magicians she'd seen on the HoloNet when Javik finally spoke up again, and she braced herself for the worst.

"Let's get to work." The bounty hunter said gruffly, almost like he had sand stuck in his throat.

Ruby blinked once, twice, and then a third time before her head caught up with her ears. He hadn't insulted her, or called her a child. In fact, Javik wanted her to work with him, now. She shifted eagerly from foot to foot and watched how Javik tilted his head at the display, an approving smirk on his face. This was fantastic! Ruby didn't know why he was willing to accept her help all of a sudden, but she didn't care.

"Come on!" Ruby practically screeched, bursting with joy as she grabbed one of Javik's armored gauntlets. Augmenting her strength with the Force, Ruby leapt up and over the ships railing, ignoring the bounty hunter's startled yelp as he dangled beneath her in the air. Ruby felt Javik yank his arm away before her feet hit lightly against the deck, so she wasn't too surprised to watch his shoulder slam into the metal surface with a tremendous thud. Of course, a landing that awful still demanded an explanation.

"What was that?" Ruby yelled with her hands as much as her mouth, getting louder as she continued her annoyed lecture. "I set us up perfectly." She accused, bending over to offer him a hand. Ruby jumped back when she sensed a sudden surge of anger and a gauntlet rocketing towards her head.

"Set _us_ up?!" Javik roared back incredulously after his blind swipe met nothing but air, startling Ruby with the ferocity in his voice. "You didn't tell me jack! You do realize I could've been seriously hurt just now, all because you're too much of a self-righteous prick to clue me in to your plan, right?!" He hissed through clenched teeth, and Ruby tried desperately to backpedal, to deny his accusation without breaking down into tears.

"That's not true!" Ruby screamed defensively at Javik, wrapping her arms around chest to try and ward off the chill seeping into her bones from his painful words. Ruby couldn't imagine where he'd been keeping such a wellspring of hate and mistrust buried, but the Jedi felt the brunt of Javik's loathsome emotions as they cascaded against her in powerful waves.

"Yes, it is." Javik declared as his green eyes darkened and narrowed, growing colder and boring into her own silver irises with a frightening, feral intensity. "You're no better than the Inquisitors that sent me here. They didn't give me any hints either, just a place to look before they sent me on my way. Does that sound like fun?!" The bounty hunter bellowed, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed his blaster's grip tight.

"Don't compare me to those murderers." Ruby balked quietly as tears started swelling in her eyes, clenching her fingers into fists against the overwhelming urge to lash out at Javik, to really try and hurt the Faunus if that's what he thought she had done. "I'm not a Sith." She clarified shakily, barely able to hold her composure as her own dark thoughts mixed violently with the bounty hunter's until she couldn't tell where his ended and her own began.

"What's the difference, a color palette?" Javik asked ruefully as he turned away from her and started making his way towards the wheelhouse. "Team Uniforms?"

"Shut up, Javik." Ruby muttered under her breath, feeling her control start to slip. The air around her shimmered, and the red fabric of her cloak rustled without any wind to move it. She couldn't believe she'd actually wanted to make this . . . this _sleemo_ appreciate her. She didn't need his approval—She didn't need anyone's approval!

"Why should I?" Javik retorted as he neared a short flight of stairs, not even bothering to look back at her, to show her the respect she deserved.

"I said: Shut. Up." Ruby stared at her sandy feet, counted the grains of sand, and enunciated very slowly, very carefully, because if she spoke any faster or acknowledged his existence any further the unstable dam she was restraining herself with would come tumbling down. As she neared the breaking point, Ruby resorted to a last ditch effort at keeping herself together: the Jedi Code.

 _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is - ARGHHHH! That's not right._ Ruby screamed at herself, certain she was wrong but unable to figure out why.

"No." Javik let out a bitter laugh and pressed his hand against a glowing console at the barge's stern. A local chart popped into view as the navcomputer computer came online, but Ruby was far more focused on the Faunus examining it, outraged at the way he ignored her like she was some insignificant insect. She wasn't the insect, HE WAS THE INSECT! Ruby realized as she finally let her malice, rage, and all of the hurt, the raw anger, he'd incited surge outwards from her body. Her cloak whipped through the air like a wild dragon had seized control of it as she stalked towards Javik, hoping he'd say something, _anything_ else so she'd feel vindicated in attacking him. She didn't have to wait long, as Javik apparently had more to say.

"Jedi. Sith. I bet you're all just a bunch of arrogant, swaggering, holier-than-thou fierfeks who enjoy lording your powers over the rest of us like g—ERGH!"

Ruby reached out with the Force and squeezed his throat shut, reveling in the shock that crossed Javik's face as he realized what was happening, who was in control. Ruby felt a strange chill start to creep into her skull, and she loosed a gleeful cackle as it seemed to freeze her blood but electrified her nerves.

"What was that, Javik? I can't hear you." Ruby mocked shrilly in a voice she didn't recognize, strengthening her grip into a fist, cutting off his airway completely, and lifting the bounty hunter off the ground. She watched Javik's eyes and veins bulge, and she smiled in delight as he clawed desperately at his throat and his lips were tinged a beautiful shade of blue. It wouldn't be much longer until—

' _RUBY!'_ A voice called to her across the Force, someone she was intimately familiar with. _'Ruby, you have to stop this immediately.'_ Her Master's slow, soothing voice drifted into Ruby's consciousness from light-years away, carried into her mind along the bond they'd formed together. Ozpin's words pierced the haze that filled Ruby's mind, and it dispelled enough of her violent emotions for her to realize what she was doing.

All at once, the power Ruby had amassed fled her body, leaving her feeling cold and shallow. As her cloak settled around her shaking legs, Ruby let Javik go with a brittle scream, and she backed away from his motionless form as he fell to the deck with a heavy thud. She stared at her trembling hands, recognizing every crease and wrinkle but unable to comprehend how she could use the Force to try and kill someone. Only the faint whispers of life that flickered inside Javik's body told her she hadn't succeeded.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ruby felt Ozpin reaching out to her again, trying to figure out if his Padawan was alright. As much as she feared disappointing him, Ruby opened herself up to her Master's presence, because this was the first time she'd ever really lost control of her senses. Ruby had always, always struggled against the Dark Side, but she'd never let herself get to the point where she actually _wanted_ to hurt somebody before.

Ruby knew she was in dangerous territory. She'd treaded the line between the Light and Dark Side of the Force for years now, all the while fooling everyone, even herself, into believing she was in total control. Now, two more people knew her secret. One of them was calling for her to come back to him, and she'd choked the other into unconsciousness, but he was her only chance to get there as well.

 **Author's Note: First thing's first, I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I could go into great detail telling you all about how I was socializing with family over Christmas Break and how this next semester of college came out of the gate swinging for the fences, but I'm sure that's not why you decided to read this chapter. All I can do is apologize, and hope you'll forgive my tardiness, unlike some professors of mine. (Seriously, don't be late to class in college. It doesn't matter if the parking lot is full and you literally can't park anywhere, just don't be late.)**

 **In other, less salty, news, I've got some announcements to make about this story.**

 **I found a way to work in Jaune and Pyrrha. Yaaaaay! . . . but it pushes back the introductions of Nora and Ren quite a bit. Boooooo! (I'm still not even bothering to try and include Neptune or Sun, mostly because I detest them. I'd say I'm sorry, but I try to lie as little as possible)**

 **If anyone's interested, I could really use someone who's willing to consult me about Ruby as a character. I can't pin her down. She's naïve and clueless all day, but then she's suddenly a master tactician in a fight. She's dumb enough to charge a Deathstalker and react to an ancient, mammoth-type Grimm with the plan of "Let's kill it", but then she can suddenly dismantle a freaking Paladin with Ship names and revise tactics in the middle of a tournament fight (The first one.) Ruby's supposedly super shy and awkward around strangers, but then she doesn't seem to have a problem with Sun, Neptune, or anyone in Team CFVY. It may be that I just don't pay enough attention, but her character confuses the crap out of me. She's the one character in RWBY I find totally unpredictable, and I'm asking someone for help. Please, don't hesitate to PM if you've got input. Anything at all would be helpful.**

 **Most importantly of all, I'm leaving a big thank to everyone who's read, reviewed, favorited, followed, and enjoyed this story. You guys are the best.**


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